Klaine Week 2012
by nothingbutgoneness
Summary: My entries for Klaine Week 2012. Please read A/N for explanation. ALL T EXCEPT FOR CHAPTER 4 WHICH IS M! TUMBLR IS klainebowsandquirrelmort.
1. Day 1: Klaine as Kids

**Klaine Week 2012: Day 1—Klaine as Kids**

His feet hit the ground with a satisfying crunch. He stood up from the bottom of the bright yellow slide and looked around. The playground was unusually full for a Monday afternoon. Three boys a few years younger than he was occupied the fire-truck-red swings, and a pair of girls his age perched on the edge of the large wooden sandbox. A few toddlers wobbled around the jungle gym, their mothers and babysitters pacing the outside nervously, just waiting for someone to fall. Far from the little kids, into the trees that lined the back edge of the park, a large gathering of preteen boys laughed and tossed a baseball to each other on the overgrown diamond there. Blaine watched as they joked and playfully shoved each other around. _That looks like fun._ Not wanting to stick around with such little kids anymore, Blaine scurried past the moms and babysitters to go hang out with the big kids.

As he passed a line of trees, he heard a little sniffling. He paused, unsure if he heard it or if he was just-no, there it was again. He peered around a tree and spotted a pretty boy who looked to be his age curled up on the ground, back against the bark. His face was buried in his knees, and his shoulders shook.

Blaine knelt down beside him. "Hey, are you okay?"

The boy jumped and looked up at Blaine. His blue eyes—_wow, those are really pretty eyes_—streamed as they took in the boy before them. "I'm fine."

The boy's voice was high, higher than most boys', including Blaine's. Blaine thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. "But you're crying. Why are you sad?"

Just then, the crowd of older boys behind Blaine gave a loud shout of harsh laughter. The crying boy jumped again, staring wide-eyed over Blaine's shoulder at them. Blaine looked over at them and then back to the smaller boy. "Did they do something?" The boy shook his head furiously, but the terror in his eyes gave him away. "What's your name?"

The pretty blue eyes appraised him carefully, clearly judging him for trustworthiness. They apparently liked what they saw, because the musical voice whispered, "Kurt."

Blaine smiled gently. "That's a nice name. I'm Blaine. Did those boys bother you?"

Kurt didn't bother lying this time. "Yes. They were making fun of me for playing with Rachel and Mercedes in the sandbox. They told me that that was girly and that I was a girl and if I didn't stop they were going to teach me how to be a boy." His eyes started watering again. "I want my mommy."

"Where is she?"

Kurt looked back down at his knees. "She's sick. My daddy's with her at home. He sent me here to play so he could take care of Mommy."

Blaine's heart felt funny, and he wanted to help this beautiful new friend he had made. "I can't get your mommy or daddy for you, 'cause I don't know where you live, but I can give you the next best thing." He stood up, stuck his head out from behind the tree, and yelled, "COOPER!"

Kurt stared up at him in alarm. "Are you crazy? Those boys are gonna hear you!"

"It's okay," Blaine said, grinning down at Kurt. "Cooper's my brother. He's the bestest brother in the whole world."

Just then, an older boy with hair dark like Blaine's ran up, a Marvel comic book tucked under his arm. "What's wrong, Blainers? Are you hu-who's this?"

Kurt curled further into himself as Blaine placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is Kurt. Those boys from your school were being mean to him."

Cooper followed Blaine's pointing finger and scowled. "Yeah, I know them. They think they're the coolest people in the world, but they're just a bunch of losers." Cooper knelt down beside Kurt, much as his brother had minutes before. "Hey, buddy, how about we get you home?" When Kurt nodded gratefully, Cooper smiled and asked, "You wanna piggyback ride there?"

Blaine grinned wide. "Oh man, Cooper gives the absolute _bestest_ piggyback rides _ever_! Normally I'm the only one who gets them, but you can have one today."

Kurt offered a shy smile before he nodded again. Cooper stood, gently pulling the small boy to his feet. He then scooped Kurt into his arms and slung him onto his back, eliciting a tiny giggle from the boy. When Kurt was situated, Cooper made to grab Blaine's hand, but the curly-headed boy pulled back.

"Coop?" he asked hopefully. "Can I have a koalaback ride?"

Cooper feigned thinking long and hard about that request. "I don't know, bud. _Two_ seven-year-olds on me at once? I may just topple over and crush one of you to death!" Both boys laughed. "But, I _suppose_ we can give it a shot."

Blaine excitedly hopped into Cooper's arms, his hands immediately grabbing at the back of his neck and his legs locking with Kurt's on the sides to hold both in place. The two kids smiled at each other over Cooper's shoulder as the preteen began to walk out of the park. They babbled about cartoons and breakfast cereals as they walked down the street.

After a few minutes, Kurt squealed in Cooper's ear. "Mommy!" He scrambled to unhook his legs from Blaine's and jumped to the ground. He sprinted to the front porch of one of the houses, throwing his arms around the neck of a sallow, thin-haired woman sitting in a rocking chair. "Mommy! Mommy! I missed you!"

"I missed you too, KK," the woman replied with a smile, squeezing Kurt around the middle. She looked up and spotted the brothers, who hovered awkwardly at the edge of the driveway. "Who are your friends, peanut?"

"Oh yeah!" Kurt left his mother's lap and dashed back to the brothers, grabbing Cooper's hand and leading him to his mother. "Mommy, these are my new friends I made in the park. That's Blaine." He pointed to the curly-haired boy, who unwrapped one arm from his brother's neck to wave enthusiastically. "He's seven, like me!"

"Nice to meet you, Blaine," Kurt's mother said. "I'm Kurt's mom, Miss Elizabeth."

"I'm Cooper," the preteen introduced himself. "I'm this one's big brother." He shifted Blaine in his arms to tickle the younger boy momentarily.

"Cooper saved me from the mean boys," Kurt said solemnly, staring up at Cooper in awe.

"Did he now?" Elizabeth offered her hand to Cooper, who shook it. "Thank you very much. Kurt's always had...problems with other boys. I'm glad you and your brother have helped him break out a little."

"It was no problem," Cooper replied with a shrug and a blush. "Those jerks go to my school, and Kurt seems like too cool a dude to be sad." Kurt beamed. "Well, I think it's high time I got this little tyke back home. It's about naptime."

"Don' wanna nap," Blaine mumbled into the crook of Cooper's neck, his large hazel eyes drooping with fatigue. "N'tired."

"Mhm, sure you're not, bud."

Kurt reached up and tugged on Blaine's scuffed red sneaker. "You gonna come back to the park, Blaine?"

Blaine looked down, grinned, and nodded. "I gotta see my new best friend!"

With a shy frown, Kurt asked, "Who's that?"

"You, silly!"

The grin on Kurt's face nearly brought Elizabeth to tears.

"We'll see you later, Kurt," Cooper laughed, ruffling the boy's hair as he started walking up the driveway. Kurt's yelp of protest made him laugh harder. "Good to meet you, Miss Elizabeth!"

"Likewise." Elizabeth stood slowly. "Come on, KK. How about a snack? I'm thinking...ants on a log?"

"Okay!" Kurt beamed. "Give me a minute." He climbed up on a little bench and waved at the retreating brothers. Blaine, his head still resting on Cooper's shoulder, waved earnestly in return. The two boys continued to wave at each other until Cooper turned a corner and disappeared from view.

* * *

><p>Well hello there! As you may or may not know, the week of Monday, March 12 to Sunday, March 18 2012 is Klaine Week, or the anniversary week of Kurt and Blaine <em>finally<em> getting together. In honor of this, Klaine Week has been instituted. Each day has a theme or topic about which one can write fics, create fanart, do fancy things with Photoshop, etc. Since I don't own Photoshop and since I can't draw stick figures properly, you can see I've chosen to go the FanFic route. The themes are as follows:

**Monday, March 12: **Klaine as Kids

**Tuesday, March 13: **Klaine AU

**Wednesday, March 14:** Missing Moments

**Thursday, March 15: **Klaine's Anniversary

**Friday, March 16: **Graduation and College

**Saturday, March 17: **Proposal and Wedding

**Sunday, March 18: **Domestic/Daddy!Klaine

Now, I'm going to warn your right now, in this seven-part series, at least three of the updates will be author's notes. Why, you ask? Because I've already written fics of some of these themes, and I honestly do not have time right now to write something original. Each day I will either have a new drabble/ficlet for you, or I will give you the name of a fic I've already posted, and you can go read that one instead. If you follow me on Tumblr (klainebowsandquirrelmort), I'll post links every day to my ficlets on here, whether or not I actually post them in this series. Sorry if that was confusing, because I honestly have no clue what the hell I just wrote.

Happy Klaine Week, fellow Klainers!


	2. Day 2: Klaine AU

**Klaine Week 2012: Day 2—Klaine AU**

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

_Bloody hell_, Kurt thought, his forehead dropping onto his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he frowned up at his brother. "Why does she hate me, Finn?"

The enormous fifth-year shrugged. "I don't think she hates you, mate. I think she just wants to break you, like she's broken every other student she's ever taught."

Kurt smiled gently at Finn. "Thanks." He glanced at his watch. Only twenty more minutes until the end of the double period and the start of lunch. The time passed relatively quickly, ending with Professor Sylvester assigning an essay to the Gryffindors but not to her own Slytherins. Kurt tossed his quill and parchment into his satchel uncharacteristically haphazardly and strode quickly from the room, hoping to avoid Rachel Berry's self-adoration for one afternoon.

Unfortunately, the tiny Slytherin caught up to him before he could make a beeline for the Gryffindor Tower. "Did you hear about the new kid?"

Kurt's brow furrowed. "New kid?" Mid-year transfers were nearly nonexistent. There hadn't been one at Hogwarts for several generations.

"Apparently he's _American_," Rachel said in her this-is-the-juiciest-gossip-of-all-time voice. "Some school like Dalton Wizarding Academy."

"Never heard of it."

"I have." Kurt and Rachel looked behind them to see Mike Chang, the Ravenclaw prefect, approaching with a grin. "I, unlike the vast majority of Hogwarts students—and teachers, I'm appalled to say—have read _Wizarding Schools of the World_ by Hermione Granger. It's a fascinating study into—"

"Yes, _fascinating_." The scathing interruption came from Santana Lopez, who sauntered over while straightening her green and silver tie. "Let's go see this hunk of Americana before my fellow Slytherins and I eat him alive."

The band of fifth-years moved into the Great Hall, where hundreds of curious students had already gathered to gawk at the new addition to the school.

"I heard he got kicked out of his old school because he hexed a teacher!"

"I heard he's a first-year."

"I heard he swallowed a Shrinking Potion, and that's why he's so short."

"_I_ heard he uses three bottles of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion _every morning_."

"I heard he got kicked out of his old school because he slept with a teacher."

"Shut up, Puckerman, just because _you_ want up Professor Corcoran's skirt—"

"I heard he's a Gryffindor."

"No way, look at how tiny he is! And that hair! He's clearly a Hufflepuff."

"MOVE!"

At Santana's shout the crowd parted, and the group moved to their respective tables. As Kurt and Finn sat at the one all the way on the right, they saw him: the new kid.

He _was_ short, and his obviously curly dark locks _were_ far over-gelled, but he wasn't unattractive-_au contraire_, Kurt thought. His skin was delightfully tan, and under his new black robes subtle muscles rippled. His deep hazel eyes darted around the Gryffindor table, searching for a familiar face they knew they wouldn't find.

Until they fell on Kurt's.

When their eyes met, the only way to describe the moment was _magic_. The rest of the school, the scrape of plates, the squawk of owls, the chatter of Finn, it all fell away. Without realizing it, Kurt picked up his plate of steak and kidney pie and slid down the few feet that separated him from the new boy on the other side of the table.

Before Kurt could speak, the new kid smiled shyly and asked, "Can I ask you a question? I'm new here."

Kurt smiled in return. "I'm Kurt." He stuck his hand out.

The new kid grabbed it and shook it twice. "Blaine." Blaine dropped Kurt's hand and looked around, blushing. "So...this is Hogwarts."

"Not really a question," Kurt laughed lightly, "but yeah. I don't know how we compare to an American school, but—"

"Oh don't worry," Blaine murmured, catching Kurt's eye and biting his lip. "I think I'm going to like it here just fine."

* * *

><p>Well there you have it! Day 2 of the first annual Klaine Week! I was originally just going to link to my WIP <em>Hot for Teacher<em>, but inspiration struck today while I was reading _Harry Potter AU _by skintightsocks. (I highly recommend that everyone read this because holy fuck it's hilarious.) I really want to finish this, but the last thing I need is _another_ WIP on my plate. If you know me, you know I'm notoriously bad about keeping up with my WIPs. How long have you all been waiting for chapter two of _The Moments We Remember_? Three, four, five months?

HAPPY KLAINE WEEK ALL THE SAME!


	3. Day 3: Missing Moments

**Klaine Week 2012: Day 3—Missing Moments**

They collapsed against each other, panting heavily. Without hesitation, their hands sought the other's, fingers weaving a net of security and squeezing tightly. Their sweat-slicked chest slipped and slid skin against skin as their breathing evened out. They ended up cuddled close together, Blaine on his back, one bent arm behind his head on the pillow, the other wrapped around Kurt's thin torso, reaching around to hold Kurt's hand. Kurt laid on his side, his entire body pressed up against Blaine's, his top hand drawing gentle patterns on his chest, the other stretching up comfortably to tangle with Blaine's. They laid in a warm silence for a while, both trying to calm their racing hearts and stuttering minds and to soak in the brilliant afterglow of the other.

Blaine spoke first."Did I...how are you?"

Kurt tilted his head up and smiled softly as his lover. "I have never felt this amazing. You?"

Returning the smile, Blaine's thumb rubbed a soothing circle on the back of Kurt's hand. "I didn't know it was _possible_ to feel this perfect." A flash of worry crossed his face. "I didn't...hurt you...did I?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and snuggled deeper into Blaine's side. The ends of his mussed hair tickled Blaine's jaw. "Shut up, silly. Yes, it hurt. But it was beautiful pain, and it didn't last long. No, Blaine, you didn't hurt me. You _completed_ me."

A thousand feelings—real, bodily feelings—crashed over Blaine. His stomach swooped and twirled like a hummingbird. His heart grew uncomfortably big in his chest. The very surface of his skin spontaneously combusted. His vision clouded over with ridiculously emotional tears. He pulled Kurt closer, burying his face in chestnut locks that smelled of jasmine, vanilla, and sex. "You completed me too," he whispered. "You always do."

Nothing else was said as they snuggled in silence. Eventually, the half-dozen candles they'd lit died out, and in the darkness, they drifted sleep. They dreamt of each other, of hands, of mouths, of skin, of love, until Blaine's phone alarm—_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream!_—woke them in time for school. They dressed in silence, Kurt grateful for the drawer of clothes he kept in Blaine's dresser, and ate a quick breakfast of cereal, furtively shooting flirting glances at each other over their bowls as their ankles tangled under the table. Finally, they climbed into Kurt's Navigator and drove to school, fingers intertwined atop the center console. When Kurt parked in the lot, the two exchanged a lingering kiss.

"Last night was the best night of my life," Kurt murmured.

Blaine smirked and rubbed his nose against Kurt's. "You are the best everything of my life."

That was not the last time Kurt and Blaine made love, not by far. But it was the first, and for that reason it would always be the night that they _knew_, once and for all, what it meant to be in love.

* * *

><p>I lied. I told a bunch of you that I would be writing an AN and posting a link to _Missing Moments from Michael_, but, as you can see here, I didn't. I instead bestow upon you a short little scene from "The First Time." You know, right after _the first time_. I kind of hope that was clear.

I meant to put this at the bottom of my last A/N, but I forgot. Since I wrote a Hogwarts AU fic, I thought I should let you know my headcanon House assignments.

Gryffindor: Kurt, Blaine, Finn, Puck, Burt, Sam, Sunshine (I honestly can't explain this one), Hiram, Cooper

Hufflepuff: Brittany, Rory, Shue, Emma, Mercedes, Thad, Nick, Jeff, Trent, Bieste, Figgins, Carole, Matt (as in Rutherford, as in I'm putting him here because people forget about him just like people forget about Hufflepuff), Shane, Cooter

Ravenclaw: Mike, Tina, Artie, Wes, David, Quinn, Holly, Homeless Brett (I don't feel the need to justify this one), Coach Washington, LeRoy

Slytherin: Rachel, Santana, Jesse, Sue, Shelby, Harmony, Karofsky, Sebastian, Azimio, Terri, Becky, Lauren, Jacob, Sugar, April

Those are the only people I can think of, and I used IMDb. If you want my opinion on someone else's placement, let me know!

Tomorrow: Klainneversary!


	4. Day 4: Klaine Anniversary

**Klaine Week 2012: Day 4—Klaine Anniversary**

Kurt Hummel's day did not start out well. His alarm decided to not wake him at its assigned time, so when he finally came to he only had fifteen minutes to leave in order to be on time to school. He rushed through his morning routine, cutting the normally hour-and-fifteen-minute series of beautification steps down to nine minutes. He skipped breakfast, grabbed his bag, and darted out the door.

He didn't realize until he moved to text an apology to his boyfriend for missing their daily morning coffee date that he had left his phone on his nightstand. Cursing the day, he parked in the McKinley lot and rushed to AP French, sad that he hadn't seen his boyfriend yet.

In his next class, AP Chemistry, he looked forward to finally seeing Blaine, but the bow-tie-clad junior was nowhere to be seen. He suffered through a pop quiz that he was one hundred percent sure he failed_—What the hell is enthalpy of standard formation and where was I when we learned about it?—_and slouched off to AP Calculus AB, avoiding Rachel's chatters about some romantic number she was going to serenade Finn with. He sat down and looked about, but once again, Blaine was nowhere to be seen.

Resigning himself to a sucky day, he moved like a zombie. He didn't bother paying attention to any of his classes. When the bell rang for lunch, he considered going off campus and staying there, but a raspberry slushie to the face led to a detour to the locker room. He grabbed a change of clothes, and on his way to a changing stall, he had to duck to avoid the blows of a pair of hockey players. He cleaned off and headed to lunch...

...where some freshman tripped and spilled commodity spaghetti all over his only back-up outfit. Mercedes offered him a sympathetic smile, but he was just _done_. He snatched his satchel from the ground and stalked off, completely disregarding the final two classes of the day and Glee Club after school. He sped his Navigator home and slammed the front door shut behind him, seething over his waste of a day.

He was so angry that he almost didn't notice the state of his house. His living room was covered with candles, candles of every height, width, and color, all unlit. The coffee table had been pushed to the side, and in its place laid a large blue-and-red-plaid blanket, right in front of the fireplace. An iPod dock had been set up on a side table, and it was currently playing a familiar Top 40 medley. The sizzle and smell of Italian sausage wafted from the kitchen as the voice he hadn't heard all day bopped along to the Cee Lo Green hit.

Shrugging off his jacket and shoes and laying his bag by the door, Kurt moved through the candle-infested room and into the kitchen, leaning against the door frame to watch the show. Blaine, clad in Dalton sweatpants and a white t-shirt, danced around the room, throwing ingredients into a large pot on the stove. He sang as he concocted what seemed to be marinara sauce, which, after seasoning to taste, he poured over noodles in a lasagna pan. His phone buzzed on the countertop, and he answered it on speakerphone as he assembled the meal.

"Hey Mercedes!"

"Hey, white boy!" The senior girl's voice crackled through the phone. "You sound like you're having fun."

"I am," Blaine laughed, turning on the oven. "I really want everything to be perfect before Kurt gets home."

"Well, that's why I'm calling you." Blaine frowned at the device. "Kurt stormed out of the cafeteria after a freshie covered him in spaghetti. He was already in back-up outfit, and Rachel and I just realized that he might have gone home to change."

Blaine threw the lasagna in the oven and whipped around, eyes darting everywhere. "What do you mean—" His eyes landed on Kurt, who was still leaning in the doorway, smiling gently.

"Honey, I'm home."

Blaine's eyes blew wide, and he whispered. "Mercedes, I'll talk to you later."

"Sure thing," came the hesitant reply. Mercedes hung up, and the two boys stood there, staring at each other for a long moment. Finally, Blaine lifted a shaky hand to rub the back of his neck nervously. "So...surprise..."

Kurt bit back an appreciative laugh. "I see that. May I ask the occasion?"

Blaine's entire face fell, and he curled in on himself slightly. "Oh, right, you...probably don't remember...but, um...a year ago today, we...we kissed. For the first time. It's our anniversary."

In that moment, Kurt wanted nothing more than a hole to open below him, a lightning bolt to strike him, and a starving lion rip him to shreds. He quickly crossed over to his boyfriend and wrapped him up in a tight hug. "I am so, so, so so so sorry," he babbled, tears welling up in his eyes. "I can't believe—it's our—I forgot and—oh my God, I am the worst boyfriend ever." He pulled back, keeping his hands on Blaine's shoulders, and looked around. "You did this, all of this, to celebrate the most beautiful day in my life, and I _forgot_. Oh my God, you must _hate_ me."

"Hey." Blaine reached a hand up to swipe Kurt's tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Shut up, dummy. I think I've made it quite clear that I don't hate you. From what I gather, you had a pretty bad day." Kurt gave a breathy laugh and nodded. "Well, that's what boyfriends are for." Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and pulled him over to the stove. "Making bad days better." He gestured to the oven. "I'm making us lasagna and salad for dinner, and there is a chocolate mousse cake in the fridge for dessert."

"Strawberries and whipped cream?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine kissed his nose. "Of course. Now, my plan _was_..." He led Kurt into the living room. "You would come in to a darkened room lit with the glow of exactly fifty-three candles, a number which has no greater significance than the number of candles I could scrape together in three days, and be stunned into silence. I would sweep in, wearing something far more dapper than sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and offer you a glass of chilled sparkling cider. I would lead you over to this blanket—" He did so, gently pushing Kurt down onto it. "—and cuddle you until dinner was ready."

"Just cuddling?" Kurt pouted playfully.

"I could be talked into some making out, I suppose," Blaine replied off-handedly. Once dinner was ready, we would eat, and then dessert, and then..." Blaine trailed off, blushing.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. "And then?"

"You know...if you...if you wanted to..." he mumbled, avoiding Kurt's eyes.

"Well..." Kurt pulled Blaine down next to him and climbed in his lap. "...since we're doing things a little backwards...what do you say we start at the end and work our way to food?"

"B-but," Blaine spluttered as Kurt began to suck on his neck, "what ab-about the candles?" Kurt hummed, fully straddling Blaine's legs as he pushed the junior against the couch. "And the fanc—_ngh—_fancy clothes?"

"Blaine," Kurt mumbled against his neck. "Shut up and make love to me."

"Okay," Blaine breathed. He pushed Kurt backward, cushioning his fall onto the blanket with his forearm. He slid his body over the older boy's, gasping at the sudden heat in the room. Starting at Kurt's hairline, he trailed kisses, sucks, and licks down his face, across his neck, and up the other side. His hands, in the meantime, made quick work of the many straps and buttons that lined the side of Kurt's shirt. He unfastened the material and slid it off of his shoulders, growling quietly at the sight of another shirt underneath. His lips left Kurt's skin only long enough to lift the tee over his head, and then they were right back on the porcelain expanse, moving farther south over Kurt's sternum, chest, and stomach. The older boy arched up into the feeling, his pupils blown wide and his breath coming in heavy pants.

When Blaine's mouth reached Kurt's navel, the junior could feel the senior's erection straining in his tight skinny jeans. He rubbed his hand over it once, chuckling softly at the keen that tore from Kurt's throat. Kurt's hands flew to the hem of Blaine's t-shirt and jerked it over the junior's head, freeing most of the curls from their gel prison. Blaine then collapsed onto Kurt, their sweaty torsos sliding together to create a friction that was teasing and wholly unsatisfying to the need both felt.

After a moment, Blaine reached over Kurt's head and extracted a bottle of lube and a condom from the bottom drawer of a side table. He laid them on the blanket, and Kurt smiled. "Always thinking ahead."

"Well, I _did_ have this all planned out..." Blaine smirked. His hands gently tickled their way down Kurt's bare stomach, causing the older boy to wiggle and laugh breathily, until they stopped at the waistband of his jeans. Blaine's nimble fingers slid the button through the hole, and a few gentle tugs later, Kurt's jeans lay forgotten on the couch.

Not one to be underdressed, Kurt returned the favor by sliding his hands down Blaine's sweats. After teasingly squeezing his ass for a few moments, enjoying being the one to make the other squirm, he helped Blaine shimmy out of the pants, which quickly ended up strewn haphazardly next to Kurt's jeans.

With just two pairs of boxer briefs separating them, the two felt the heat increase tenfold. Blaine rutted down, their straining arousals nearly exploding at the needed friction. Before Blaine could tease him any further, Kurt hooked his thin fingers into the waistband of Blaine's briefs and tugged them down, throwing them where-the-hell-ever as he took Blaine's throbbing length into his hand.

"Oh dear _God_," Blaine groaned, hips thrusting forward into Kurt's fist. His mouth attacked the senior's neck again, adding to the litany of deep bruises already formed there. Trying to keep his wits about him, he managed to grab a hold of Kurt's briefs. He locked lips with the boy below him as he ripped the underwear down and flung it far away.

The second their bare cocks brushed against each other, each almost lost it. It had been a week and a half since they'd last had sex, and they were feeling every ounce of repressed sexual urges coursing through them at once. Blaine groped around for the lube as he rutted fast and hard against Kurt, the friction on their hard arousals causing both to make mind-numbing noises. When Blaine finally located the bottle, he flipped open the cap and squirted a liberal amount on his fingers. Warming it up, he trailed his hand down Kurt's perineum and circled his hot entrance. Kurt immediately pushed himself onto the finger, gasping when the digit broke through the ring of muscle. "_Blaine_," he moaned, his hands flying to tangle in Blaine's hair.

Smirking, Blaine dipped his head down and took Kurt's length in his mouth. As soon as Kurt felt the wet warmth around him, his brain completely fried. "_Ngnh, oh, fuck, Blaine, oh _fuck_ Blaine, what're you—shit fuck damn oh my GOD..."_ he babbled, pulling on Blaine's hair tightly. Blaine took this as encouragement and added two more fingers, stretching Kurt wide. The senior was absolutely falling apart. The feeling of Blaine both inside him and around him nearly sent him over the edge, but Blaine pulled back and out before Kurt could come. "_Blaine..._" the older boy whined.

Blaine laughed softly as he reached for the condom. "Just a second, love, I promise." He quickly rolled on the condom and slicked his painfully throbbing cock up with lube. He then eased Kurt's legs over his shoulders and pushed forward, slowly making his way into Kurt's heat. Their hands intertwined beside Kurt's head on the blanket as Blaine complete sheathed himself. He hovered like that for a long moment, the two of them just staring into each other's eyes.

Then Kurt whispered, "Move," and Blaine pulled back, only to slam back in a moment later. Kurt released a feral growl, clawing at Blaine's shoulders as the utter sensation of _goodgodyespleasemore_ overwhelmed him. The two moved together, skin against skin, heat against heat, heart against heart, as the tight, searing coil in their stomachs grew and inundated them. With a final push and a gasp of _I love you_, the two came together, Blaine collapsing on Kurt when he finished.

They lay there for a long while, panting and sighing against one another. Blaine reached a hand up to brush a stray lock of hair from Kurt's blue eyes. "I love you so much," he whispered.

"You are perfect," Kurt replied simply. "But I think we need to...clean up before we get all cuddly."

"Agreed." Blaine carefully extracted himself from Kurt, sliding off the condom and tying it tight. After disposing both it and the wrapper in the garbage can in the kitchen, he wet a few sheets of paper towel and returned to Kurt, cleaning the both of them off. Then he lay back down beside his lover and wrapped him up in his arms. "Happy anniversary, love."

Kurt nuzzled into the crook of Blaine's neck. "Happy anniversary."

* * *

><p>So...that was smut...if you didn't notice. I hoped you heeded the warning I put in the description box before reading...<p>

Here's summary of my day:

People: "Do you know what today is?"  
>Me: [thinking] "It's Klaine's anniversary, I can't believe people remem-"<br>People: "It's the Ides of March!"  
>Me: -_-<p>

So, sorry Julius Caesar, but I care far more about my boys than I do about your death.

Today we had a party in AP Lang, and within a five-minute span, I managed to spill nearly half a bottle of soda, drop a full bag's worth of Twizzlers on the ground, break a cup, and spit chocolate everywhere. This is why I do not go to social functions.

I FAILED MY CALC TEST TODAY!

I love you all.


	5. Day 5: Graduation and College

**Klaine Week 2012: Day 5—Graduation/College**

Hundreds of square black caps fell to the ground, the horde of teenagers chattering excitedly as they fetched the garments and replaced them upon their heads. They had just graduated from William McKinley High School. They were never going back. For all, it was a bittersweet realization.

"I can't believe I'm saying goodbye to this place," Kurt sighed, winding his fingers through his boyfriend's.

"Aw," Blaine cooed. "You're so sentimental sometimes. I find it quite adorable."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Come on. I mean, it's really just Glee Club that I'll miss. Can you imagine life without the daily love nonagon that is our friends' lives? I mean, if Rachel isn't going to storm out of every room, then who is? If Puck isn't going to make out with all of Finn's girlfriends, then who is? If Brittany isn't going to blurt random statements that both confuse me and make sense at the same time, _then who is_?"

Placing a soft kiss upon Kurt's porcelain cheek, Blaine interrupted the other boy's rambling. "They're not going away forever. We still have all summer to say goodbye. And Rachel's going to New York with you. If it makes you feel better, you can piss her off every day, just so you can see her slam a door when she storms out." That brought a smile to Kurt's face. "There we go. Now, if you'll come with me, I'd like to give you your graduation present before we head to Rachel's place for the Glee party." Not allowing Kurt to respond, Blaine dragged him by the hand out of the auditorium crammed with students, parents, and faculty members and into the empty choir room.

"Blaine, what the hell is—_what are you doing_?" Kurt gasped as he watched Blaine kneel onto one knee.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel." The shorter boy pulled a small velvet box from the pocket of his dress slacks. "I should have given you this a long time ago, because it's been applicable to our relationship for quite a while—"

"Blaine Anderson I _swear_ to you that if you're doing what I think you're doing—"

"So you're just going to have to excuse my lateness. I love you more than anyone else in the world, Kurt—more than life itself. I know for a one-hundred-percent fact that I'm going to die in love with you, whether that's tomorrow or ninety years from now. And I want to prove that to you." Blaine lifted the lid of the tiny box open.

"Oh no—" Kurt stopped short when he saw the box's contents. Instead of a band or a ring with a stone, a different piece of jewelry gleamed from within the folds of velvet. The ring was silver, and it featured a pair of hands clutching a heart, which was surmounted by a crown. Kurt recognized the design—it was traditional in style, not at all modern—but it wasn't even close to what he expected. His brow wrinkled in confusion. "Blaine, what—"

"It's a claddagh ring," the kneeling boy explained. "It's an Irish tradition. In the olden times, people were too poor to buy real wedding rings, so they used these instead. The hands represent friendship, the crown represents loyalty, and the heart...There's a specific way you have to wear it, too."

"Oh?" Kurt was thoroughly baffled. What exactly was Blaine up to?

Blaine stood up and moved close to Kurt, their bodies nearly flush with each other. "When you're in a committed relationship, you wear it on your right hand, with the heart pointing toward you. It means your heart's taken, and that you won't give it away." Blaine removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto Kurt's right third finger, pointing the heart toward the taller boy's wrist. Then he wound his own right fingers through Kurt's, showing off his matching claddagh ring. The heart on his ring, too, faced his body. "We belong to each other," he whispered.

When Blaine pressed a deep, passionate kiss to his lips, Kurt cried freely. The two embraced each other, reveling in the fact that they were equal, that they were together, and that they were in love.

When they broke apart, Kurt smiled blearily and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Alright, enough with you getting to be the ridiculously romantic one. It's my turn. Your present's at my house."

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed. "Kurt, no, this is your day, I don't get presents—"

"Exactly. It's my day so you are going to shut up and do what I tell you to."

Blaine knew that smirk—it was Kurt's argue-with-me-and-suffer-the-consequences smirk, and Blaine knew better than to fight it. "Okay, fine. Gimme my present."

Kurt clapped his hands together once. "Excellent! Now come on, it's at my place."

While being led out to Kurt's Navigator by the hand, Blaine spluttered, "But I thought we were going to Rachel's for the party."

Kurt shot him a look. "Well, yes, but I had to go home anyway. Did you really expect me to wear the same outfit to graduation as I did to a party? Come on, Blaine."

"But what about your parents?"

Kurt sighed as he unlocked his truck. "We're going out to dinner tomorrow. Blaine, can you please believe that I have everything under control and just roll with it?"

Blaine threw his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. To the Batcave, Batman."

The drive to the Hummel-Hudson home was quick and quiet. Kurt led Blaine inside and up to his room. "Ooh, are you going to do scandalous things to me, Mr. Hummel?" Blaine joked.

Kurt shoved Blaine onto the bed roughly. "Shut up." He then turned around and left the room.

"Hey!" Blaine called. "Where're you—"

"Just stay there!" came the shouted reply. Blaine collapsed back onto the bed. He felt as thought it was Christmas morning, and he was being told to wait in his room until his parents were awake before charging downstairs and ripping through paper. He twisted the ring on his right hand with the other fingers, smiling at the feel of cool metal against his skin. Just knowing that Kurt wore the same indicator of their relationship made his heart swell to a dangerous size.

Finally, Kurt returned to his bedroom with a large wicker picnic basket in his hands. Fighting a large grin, Kurt set the basket beside Blaine on the bed. "Sit up and look."

Blaine bolted upright and examined the basket. "What is it?"

Rolling his eyes, Kurt replied, "It's a car. Just open it."

"Fine, fine." Carefully, Blaine lifted one of the lids of the basket.

The sound that left his mouth, he would later insist, was nothing short of manly, and did not at all resemble the squeal of a preteen girl.

Inside the basket, in a nest of soft felt blankets, curled a tiny black and white kitten, a blue-and-red-striped bow tie loosely circling his neck. He blinked up once at Blaine and emitted a small, cracked meow.

And Kurt watched Blaine fall in love.

"Oh my _God_," the junior whispered, gently scooping the kitten from his bed. "_Kurt_...how—why—but—_oh my God he's so_ _damn_ cute!"

Completely losing his fight against the grin, Kurt settled beside Blaine and wrapped his arms around his waist, settling his chin on his shoulder and watching his boyfriend cuddle with the kitten. "Remember that conversation we had a few months ago about pets?"

"Um...vaguely. You said your dad's allergic to fur so you couldn't ever have a dog—_did you see him yawn oh my God that was so adorable_!"

"Well, I remembered you said you always wanted a kitten, and since I'm going to New York..." Kurt blinked back tears. "...I want to give you something to remember me by."

Blaine ripped his attention away from the sleepy furball in his hands. "Oh Kurt..." He lifted one hand, carefully balancing the cat in the other, and pressed it to Kurt's cheek. "I am never, _ever_ going to forget you. I am going to think of you every single second you're away, and I'm going to pine over you pathetically, and I'm going to brag to everyone I know that I'm dating a college boy." Kurt laughed breathily. "Well, I won't brag to Tina, 'cause she'll have a college boyfriend too, but you catch my drift. I'm not going to give up on _us_ because one of us is off living his dream. Besides, you being gone will drive me to do better in my studies, so I can graduate and join you as soon as possible."

Kurt kissed Blaine softly. "Thank you." He pulled back and smiled down at the kitten. "So? Name time!"

"Right!" Blaine beamed. "It's a boy right?"

Kurt smirked. "Like I'd ever run the risk of you suddenly going bi again."

"Hey!" Blaine lifted the kitten into the air, giggling when he squeaked adorably. "Let's see...it has to be something memorable...I'm thinking...Dalton Coffee Pavarotti."

Kurt blinked once. "What?"

"Dalton Coffee Pavarotti!" Blaine frowned. "What, you don't like it?"

Kurt settled his chin atop Blaine's shoulder again. "I think it's perfect."

"Good." After nuzzling with the kitten for a moment, Blaine tenderly tucked him back in his basket. "I suppose we should go to Rachel's party."

Kurt stood and pulled Blaine with him. "Let's just make a quick appearance and come back. I'm not really interested in seeing my friends get blitzed out of their minds. I just finished high school. I could use a nap."

"Of course, my love." Blaine kissed his nose. "Go get changed, and we'll head over." Blaine watched Kurt dance into his closet and smiled. _I don't know how I'm ever going to survive a year without that boy._

* * *

><p>Okay, so, if you've read<em> The Moments We Remember<em>, the first part of this, Blaine giving Kurt the ring, should be very familiar, 'cause it's totally the flashback I used in the first chapter. I'm just lazy that way. The kitten in the chapter is from a picture released of Lea Michele in the choir room, and my headcanon is that Kurt gives Blaine a kitten and I really don't care what shit RIB comes out with.

So, yesterday was the Klaineversary. And I cried. And rewatched "Original Song." And cried some more. And finally noticed that the name of the episode is "Original Song," not "Original Songs." And cried some more. There was a theme.

Well, I have to go babysit in a few, so I'll catch you mad cats later!

(SPRING BREAK BABY!)


	6. Day 6: Proposal and Marriage

**Klaine Week 2012: Day 6—Proposal and Marriage**

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel."

"_Oh my God_."

"We've been together for eight years, six months, two weeks, and three days—and during those eight years, six months, two weeks, and three days, I have come to the easy conclusion that I am going to spend the rest of my life with you. It's not an option anymore, not really, not for us. I'm not sure it ever was. Call it fate, call it soulmates, call it divine prophecy, call it predestination—call it dumb luck that it was me you stopped on that stairway at Dalton. I don't care. All I know is that in these past eight years, six months, two weeks, and three days, we've ridden on the highest of highs and drowned in the lowest of lows. We've faced hatred and slander and violence and arguments and doubt—but we made it through. I never truly knew what love meant before you sauntered into my life and opened my woefully blind eyes. I've been alone, surrounded by darkness...but you took me by the hand and led me into the light, and my world is so beautiful because of it.

"So now I want to take the next step. I could be content to stay here in this comfortable, perfect point in our relationship, but we're so much more than that now. It's time we really, truly belonged to one another, in a permanent, irrevocable, forever way. Kurt Hummel...will you marry me?"

"Oh my God—I just—_yes_!"

"...What?"

"Yes, Blaine. I just said I would marry you."

"Thank God, because I practiced that whole speech for _so long_, but I wasn't nearly this nervous during my Broadway debut, and I was _sure_ that I was going to screw something up, but then I finished and I couldn't remember if I did or not, and you answered but I was so preoccupied going back and making sure I covered it all that I didn't hear what you said and I was worried that you'd say no and then I'd make you say it again and—"

"Blaine! Embrace end punctuation."

"Right..."

"Come here. I am going to marry you, and I am going to spend the rest of my life with you. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"God you're such a dork."

"But I'm your dorky fiancé."

"That you are."

"Engagement sex?"

"Are you kidding me? I have to go scream at Rachel over the phone."

"But...we just got engaged."

"What do you think I'm going to be screaming about?"

"...okay."

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm kidding. Let's go have engagement sex."

"_Thank God_."

* * *

><p>"Blaine Everett Anderson. I spent <em>weeks<em> writing these vows. The reason it took me so long was because I kept starting over, because nothing was coming out right. I don't know what to say to you, what to vow to you. I vow to be faithful, that's for sure. I vow to let you win arguments every once in a while. I vow to only dictate what you wear when we're going to really important events. I vow to hold you every time you watch _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_—both parts—and you sob uncontrollably in that ridiculously adorable way of yours. I vow to never mess with your careful book organization system, even though I'm absolutely _dying _to just put them in alphabetical order instead of using the Dewey Decimal System. I vow to make you smile just like that as often as I can. I vow to cook you my famous French toast at least once a week. I vow to never try to curb your coffee habits. I vow to forcibly drag you from the pet store every time you insist on coming home with one of the puppies, no matter how cute or helpless it is. I vow to start a family with you when we're both ready. I vow to love you until my last breath leaves my body. I vow to you be yours, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part."

"Damn, Kurt, I wish you hadn't gone first. I'm not sure how I can follow that. Okay, um...I think I'm going to throw my vows out the window and say...I vow to never play my guitar when you're sleeping. I vow to look past your unhealthy addiction to trashy reality shows. I vow to speak in Italian to you whenever you want, so long as you speak in French to me in return. I vow to let you take as long as you want in the bathroom. I vow to only to sneak in the shower with you when we both have time for such shenanigans. I vow to make you blush like that as often as I can. I vow to listen to you rant whenever something doesn't go exactly right at the design shop. I vow to give you advice whenever you need it. I vow to always take your side, even if you're not completely right. I vow to always get misty-eyed every time I hear "Blackbird." I vow to never, ever intentionally hurt you. I vow to protect you to the best of my abilities from all the hate in this world. I vow to love you to infinity and beyond. I vow to you be yours, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part."

"My God, can I kiss him yet?"

* * *

><p>"You may now kiss your husband."<p>

"_Thank God._"

* * *

><p>So, I am totes in love with this chapter. Again, if you've read <em>The Moments We Remember<em>, you should recognize Blaine's proposal speech from chapter one, 'cause I'm a lazy mofo who didn't feel like making something new up. *le shrug*

I watched _The Lion King 1 1/2_ with the girls I babysit last night, and they told me that they hadn't see the first two yet. Like, that's just sacrilegious.

One more day, and then I can get back to my other works! I'm really, honestly, truly trying to have chapter two of TMWR up by the end of the week. The only problem is that now I have to rewrite basically all of it to incorporate Cooper. Fuck you, RIB. Fuck. You.


	7. Day 7: Domestic! and Daddy Klaine

**Klaine Week 2012: Day 7: Domestic/Daddy!Klaine**

Panic. Pure, unadulterated panic. Adrenaline and fear coursed through his veins as he tore through the house, screaming his daughter's name over and over and over again. He upended the furniture in every room, each passing second adding another terrifying image to his mental torture chamber. He knew he should call someone, should check with all the neighbors, should summon the police—but he couldn't seem to stop himself from ripping through the townhouse, just in case she was hiding.

A key scratched in the lock of the front door, and he bolted downstairs. The second it opened, he launched himself at Kurt, sobbing unintelligibly. Wide-eyed, Kurt led the hysterical Blaine to the couch, where he rubbed his back soothingly until he could calm down enough to choke out, "Elizabeth's missing."

Time stood still. For an endless moment, Kurt searched the watery hazel eyes in front of him, determined to find some flicker of humor, some indication that this was all a big joke, that he could walk right upstairs and find El, his El, tucked away in a corner of her bedroom, giggling quietly to herself.

But he didn't.

He just saw pain.

He leapt up and grabbed the phone from the cradle.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, the townhouse was swarming with police, and the street out front was swarming with media. The former was obviously intended, and the latter was not unexpected; when the daughter of Blaine Anderson, Broadway star and music producer, and Kurt Hummel, Broadway star and fashion designer, goes missing, all news sources come to a stand-still to watch. The police questioned Blaine first, since he was the one with Elizabeth when she went missing.<p>

"Mr. Anderson—"

"Anderson-Hummel," Blaine interrupted dully. "We go by our singular last names for our careers only."

"Right." The cop, a Detective Panetta, smiled gently. "Mr. Anderson-Hummel, when did you notice your daughter was missing?"

Blaine swallowed thickly, squeezing the hand of his husband beside him. "I put her down for her nap at two. I came out here to write some music, and I...fell asleep. When I woke up, it was nearing five o'clock, and normally El would have woken up and called for me by then, but she—she _didn't_, so I went upstairs to check on her, and she...she was..." He broke off, choking back a sob. Kurt tugged him further into his arms, tears streaming down his own face.

"So, Elizabeth disappeared somewhere between two and five this afternoon?"

Blaine shook his head. "No, I got at least a good hour and a half's worth of work in before I fell asleep, so I'd say between three-thirty and five."

Detective Panetta smiled again. "That's good, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. The smaller our time frame, the better chance we have of predicting where she might have gone, and how to get her back."

"Do you think someone took her?" This was the first time Kurt spoke since hanging up with the 911 operator, and his voice was hoarse and cracked.

The detective exchanged a heavy glance with a uniformed cop on the other side of the room. He then looked back to the husbands. "There was forced entry on the window, and footprints on the fire escape. Kidnap is the most probable explanation for your daughter's disappearance, yes."

Kurt nodded, unable to say any more.

* * *

><p>"Good evening. My name is Detective Jesse Panetta, and I'm with the New York City Police Department. As many of you are aware, this little girl, Elizabeth Cooper Anderson-Hummel, went missing today between the hours of three-thirty and five o'clock PM. She is four years, four months old. Elizabeth is three feet, four inches tall and approximately thirty-five pounds. She has black curly hair that reaches her shoulders and hazel eyes, and a pale heart-shaped birthmark on her left shoulder. She was taken from her parents' home through her bedroom window. If anyone sees or hears anything that may be pertinent to the discovery of this girl, please, call our tip line at one-eight-hundred-five-seven-seven-TIPS to report it. This little girl is scared and away from her family. Please help us bring her home safely.<p>

"Now, are there any questions?"

* * *

><p>Rachel was the first one to come by. She had to leave almost as soon as she got there, because it was getting late and she couldn't leave her two-year-old boy with the babysitter much longer. She hugged and cried and gave them comforting words, but they knew it all meant nothing when their baby was somewhere with someone doing something they didn't want to think what.<p>

Soon after Rachel left, Santana arrived. Her drive to Manhattan from Brooklyn was farther from Rachel's, which was only a few city miles long. She sat with the distraught husbands as they waited, waited, waited, swallowing her own tears in her determination to stay strong for her best friends. That little girl meant a great deal to Santana, who helped the Anderson-Hummels balance a baby and their careers for a short while after she was born. It was suffice to say that she had fallen in love with the bundle of pink in no time at all.

It was Santana who forced the media to keep far from the townhouse. It was Santana who compelled Blaine to swallow down some soup when he refused to eat. It was Santana who caught Kurt retching in the bathroom, hiding his unbearable pain from his husband. It was Santana who answered the phone when Burt called, both of them breaking down to each other.

It was Santana who answered the ransom call.

"Hello?"

"I want to speak to Blaine or Kurt Anderson-Hummel."

The voice was distorted, and Santana knew immediately that she was speaking to the man who kidnapped her honorary niece. She quickly waved Detective Panetta forward, who at once switched on a recording device. "Why should I let you?"

"Because I have their precious daughter in my car right now, and if they want her back, they'll speak to me."

Detective Panetta nodded, and Santana handed the phone to Kurt, who seemed to be slightly more composed than Blaine. Shakily, the man held the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Kurt Anderson-Hummel, you have twenty-four hours to wire fifty thousand dollars to a bank account. If you do not do so, you will never see your daughter alive again. I know the cops are listening in on this, so I only have to say this once: you cannot trace this call, so do not waste your time trying to find me. Get the money together. I will call back in twenty-three hours with the bank routing number. That will be my last communication with you."

"Please let me talk to her," Kurt begged, not caring that he just interrupted his child's kidnapper.

"No." Click.

Kurt broke down, collapsing onto Blaine and sobbing uncontrollably. Blaine could only grip him tightly and cry with him.

* * *

><p>The police, who were granted access to the Anderson-Hummels' bank accounts, work simultaneously on collecting the fifty thousand demanded by the kidnapper and finding a way to electronically trace it once it was sent. Detective Panetta had a good feeling that they would have to do the latter discreetly, because the offender would notice some of the more obvious methods of tracking.<p>

"Jesse." The detective looked to his partner, who was just hanging up his cell phone. "They couldn't get a trace on the call. It kept moving between towers, right on the fringes."

"You think he was moving?"

"It's a possibility."

Panetta replayed the ransom tape for what had to be the fiftieth time. This time, however, he used a sound-enhancement program to alter the pitch and speed. When he did so, he heard something distinctive in the background.

"_They're in a car._"

* * *

><p>When miracles happen, they often pass unnoticed, too innocuous and commonplace to even be counted as miracles. They're often taken for granted, counted as everyday "good luck" instead of favors from the universe. They commonly get eclipsed by the "big" miracles, the "real" miracles, that seem much more extreme, much less likely, than the regular miracles that happen to the average person all the time.<p>

Elizabeth Cooper Anderson-Hummel's return to her fathers was not one of those small miracles. It was a compilation of huge ones.

Like El managing to slip out of the rope tying her hands. Like El being able to pull on the emergency lever on the inside of the trunk. Like the car moving slow enough for El to jump out without being seriously hurt. Like the car being on a street that was only a few minutes' walk from Rachel's townhouse, a place El had been many times before. Like Rachel being home to open the door for her crying goddaughter. Like the traffic around that part of town being relatively light that day.

Rachel grabbed Elizabeth and her son, Elliot, cursing her husband for being on a business trip, and hopped in her car, punching her best friends' number into her cell as she drove madly. The police had already created a wide berth for her vehicle by the time she got there, so she didn't even park against the curb when she came to a halt. She didn't even have time to push open the door before Blaine and Kurt descended upon it, wrenching open the back door and pulling their daughter into their arms. Cameras flashed, policemen surrounded them, and the world seemed to explode in their ears, but none of that mattered as they hugged their little girl and sobbed. After a minute, Blaine leaned over their baby's head and kissed his husband soundly.

_They can't touch us or what we have._

* * *

><p>Thus endeth Klaine Week 2012. I am very grateful to those of you who stuck with me these past seven days and who rode on the rollercoaster of WTF!Klaine with me. I appreciate every single favorite and subscription, and you all mean a lot of me.<p>

Quick note: if you read _The Moments We __Remember_, you will see this chapter again, because I'm going to use it there as well, because I, as I've already made quite plain, am a lazy fuck.

Adios, fair readers!


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